Within a Mile of Home
by Dala1
Summary: Bill wants to see how his son is faring. (Bootstrap POV; JackxWill)


(standard disclaimer applies)

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Although the days when the veil is thin occur at the same time every year, Bill spent ten years being not exactly dead, so he didn't exactly have a free rein. Besides which, sometimes he wasn't too keen on knowing what's happening on the other side. First person he sought was Mary, and finding her dead and his son missing rather soured him on the prospect. It didn't surprise him that she couldn't be with him now. He figured it might have been the way he died or the life he lived. Still, it was a long time before he dared walk in that world again.  
  
First and only time he looked in on Jack, the onetime captain was huddled in a pile of rags in Tortuga, barely able to remember his own name on account of how much he'd drunk. He remembered the _Pearl_, though, and he mumbled to her in his sleep. When Bill heard his own name, he decided it was too soon.  
  
He tried to find young Will not long after that, unknowing if he had gone to join his mother. Relieved to find the boy alive, he was nonetheless disturbed to also find him underfed and overworked, in the care of a man Bill would've knocked unconscious with one punch if he'd been able. As Will was tending a great smithy fire, Bill was leery of startling him, and anyway didn't know quite what he might look like. He took heart in the fact that his son was mostly healthy, if too skinny, and seemed to like what he was doing, even if he wasn't entirely happy. He was breathing, and that was more than could be said for either of his folks.  
  
As the boy grew, Bill checked on him from time to time, proud of the flame in his eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, the sweetness of his smile. True that he didn't smile as frequently as might be wished, but that was hardly something Bill could help. He was young and being discontent was the prerogative of the young. Perhaps it was the metalworking; maybe he'd find himself a place on a ship and discover the whispered charms of the sea. Not having a family as yet, he would already be starting out on better footing than his father.  
  
Next time he goes looking for Will, he's gone for true, and he does find the boy shipboard. More importantly, on the _Black Pearl_, and even more importantly, in the company of one Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
First thing he thinks is that he's very glad the hour is late and he's caught them at this particular moment rather than earlier. Second reaction involves a great deal of anger, swearing, and silent but descriptive threats.  
  
Trying to decide just how he might manage to beat his old friend into a bloody pulp and discipline his only child when he can't actually touch anything, he watches them for a little while. Will is lying on his belly, stretched over Jack, his feet poking out from beneath the blanket. He has his cheek pressed to Jack's chest, listening as Jack spins the tale about the sea serpent mating ceremony. Instead of waggling his hands around in illustration the way he did the twelve times Bill has previously heard this story, Jack's got half his fingers tangled in Will's mess of dark curls, the others stroking up and down his arm.  
  
And Bill's righteous fury abruptly deserts him, because Will is calling Jack's bluff and laughing. His face crinkles right up like he's used to laughing now. And Jack – Jack defends himself hotly before giving it up and catching Will's face, kissing him soundly. Bill still wants to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, albeit more calmly, but even that desire starts to fade as their mouths part and they lie still again.  
  
He's seen the man go through a lifetime of bed partners, men and women both, never lingering on any once he found the next. But he's never seen Jack Sparrow look at any living person like this. Only the _Pearl_, and only when he thought no one was paying him any mind.  
  
Will yawns and rolls to one side, tucking an arm around Jack and nestling closer as he does the same. Looking upon his son in the darkness of the cabin, Bill knows he will have to wait no longer to see Will happy. A bit sadly, he lets go the thought of grandchildren and the happy home he never got to have. But then again, he didn't get to have this, either. He had to suffer his heart being split in twain, and Mary suffered for it as well. At sea, he longed for home; once home, he couldn't rest till he'd set out again. Will's never going to be saddled with that fate, and Bill is grateful.  
  
Part of him wants to speak with them, let them know he bears them no ill will. But they are soon asleep and he doesn't want to disturb them. Next time, maybe.  
  
Still, he's glad to be back on the _Pearl_ and he doesn't want to leave just yet. He goes to the man on watch, meaning to spook him and have a bit of fun.  
  
The grizzled sailor just looks at him standing beyond the helm, unafraid. The bright parrot on his shoulder ruffles its feathers and squawks, "Dead men tell no tales!"  
  
"That ain't true," Bill says, taking an instant liking to the man's kindly blue eyes. "I got lots o' tales. Want t' hear one?"

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End file.
